


some people see the revolution (but most only see the girl)

by apatternedfever



Series: One Girl Revolution [the Michelle Westen verse] [1]
Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, From Frank Westen which should surprise no one, Gen, Michelle Westen, Misogyny, Natalie Westen, Rule 63, although that's only mentioned in passing, briefly Michelle/Fiona, but mainly gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apatternedfever/pseuds/apatternedfever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots from Michelle Westen's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some people see the revolution (but most only see the girl)

Girls can't be soldiers.

That's what her father says when he overhears her talking to Andre; or at least, what he's saying when you clean up the language and take out all the references to 'that thug boyfriend of yours' (he never will believe that she's not sleeping with him). That _she_ can't be a soldier is secondary; all the comments about her school record, her grades, her arrest record, they're all after thoughts to the one central theme. Girls can't be soldiers. They're too weak, too stupid, too pretty for the work. Girls get married and take care of their families. Girls give up what they want for what their husband wants, and they don't say anything; not if their husband comes home hours after work smelling like beer and another woman's perfume four or five nights a week, not if he doesn't give a second thought to whether there's food in the house or the bills are paid before spending his paycheck, and definitely not if he slaps them around and beats the kids.

Frank Westen's an old-fashioned family man, after all.

The words aren't going to be enough to break her, and he knows that -- even drunk off his head, even while telling her how weak she is, he knows his daughter's stronger than that. So he doesn't just use his words. He lays into her with his fists, his belt, his feet when her legs won't hold her up anymore; gives her the worst beating she's ever gotten, either from her father or fights at school. He knows how to keep from doing any serious damage, though she thinks, after, that it was a close call; it wouldn't be the first time.

When he leaves, it's all Michelle can do to drag herself into bed and swallow the aspirin she keeps in her bedside drawer. She forgets to turn off her alarm -- there's no way she's going in to school before she inspects her father's handiwork, and today she doesn't give a damn if Natalie gets in either. Mom can take care of it, if Dad didn't leave her too sore to move, too. It's been a few months since Nat's been absent, anyway.

But the alarm goes off, and she's awake too fast and too fully to go back to sleep, so she drags herself out of bed, figuring she'll make Nat get up on her way to the shower. Maybe she can catch Andre before he leaves the house, for school or wherever he's ditching to today; his car should be out of the shop, and she's running low on aspirin. She could use a place to sleep where she won't be risking anything if her dad comes home during the day, anyway. His parents aren't happy about the trouble the two of them get into, but when she comes by with bruises that weren't there the day before, they both look guilty and his mom looks sick and they leave the two of them alone no matter how late she stays there or they stay out.

When she gets home that night, there's a piece of paper on her desk that wasn't there when she left. 

She stares at her father's signature in shock -- the first time he's surprised her in five years -- and then her swollen lips curl into a painful smile as she tucks the form away somewhere safe, just in case. Maybe this is some sort of apology, the only one she'll ever get from him. More likely he just wants her out of the house now, rather than waiting another six months. She doesn't care much about the whys.

\---

Twenty minutes after meeting Sam Axe, she revises her opinions to _not a bad contact to have for the job, though it'd be nice if he'd cut down on the flirting even when they're not directly discussing the mission_. This is after her initial opinion: _no matter how good a soldier they say he is, he's going to get a bullet in him if he doesn't stop flirting with her_. Seeing him switch into job mode would have been enough to convince her alone, even if she hadn't noticed how he flirted with everyone else who talked to him, man or woman.

Sam treats her like any other spy, not like she's a woman who just happened to be a spy. It's something she's come to expect will happen as often as not, and she'd figured Sam Axe for it as soon as she saw him. Once the job comes up, though, he's all business. And the flirting might be over the top, but at least it isn't condescending.

Sam calls her Mickey when she's getting ready to leave, and she's surprised to be pretty okay with the nickname. She's gotten plenty of nicknames over her life, but she's hated all of them, to the point where anyone who calls her anything but Michelle or Ms Westen gets a cold glare that's shut up terrorists and enemy operatives. This one, though, she thinks she could get used to, at least from Sam.

Which is when she decides she could get used to working with Sam.

\---

Fiona is dangerous, as much for her smiles and the way her hand lingers too long on Michelle's arm as for her explosives and her guns. She takes a liking to Moira McBride almost immediately, and Moira McBride takes a liking right back and causes trouble with her because that's what she's here to do, but Michelle takes a little too much of a liking behind it all.

Fiona kisses her one night, against a building, the light from the explosion just far enough away that Michelle can't feel the heat on her skin but she still imagines that she should this close. She kisses Fiona and lets Fiona be the one to break it and she knows everything that could happen tonight; knows she could kiss Fiona again, that they could get a room, spend the night together and in the morning, if she tells Fiona it was a mistake, Fiona won't be pleased but she'll listen, because plenty of women who get tangled up with explosives still aren't brave enough to get tangled up with another woman that way.

But she's not willing to face the consequences, not ready to risk the complications that could come with it.

So she doesn't kiss Fiona again, like she never pushed teasing just a little farther with Samantha, like she never lets her eyes wander around Lucy, like she never joins Sam in his flirting games with everyone around him even if everyone would write it off as just that, games.

Because some people are just waiting for her to slip up, and she's not going to give them any fuel for the fire.

\---

Dan can't come down to Miami, but when a few days pass and he finds out Michelle's emergency contact number is no longer in operation and she still hasn't left the room, he makes a call. When she wakes up in a hotel room in Miami, Sam is drinking with his feet propped up next to her on the bed and a newspaper in his hand.

"You're a lucky gal, Mickey," Sam says as she blinks at the bright midday sunlight. "Any worse and you might not have woken up at all."

"Sam?" She means to say more than that, or at least not sound so confused, but she can't manage it.

"In the flesh, baby." He grins; anyone who didn't know him as well as she did would never see the worry there.

"What happened?"

The grin slides away immediately; Michelle sits up. Her memory might be foggy, she might not be entirely sure where she is or why she's here, but she knows that if Sam's going into job mode, it's serious.

"They sent you home."

She blinks at him for a second before it connects; she remembers Warri, the burn notice, the airplane. Remembers more distantly that last she'd heard of Sam, he was spending his retirement in Florida. Home. Miami. She stands up, goes to the window to see what kind of surveillance she's under.

"I gotta take care of this now."

"You gotta get to a hospital, Mickey. You've got at least one broken rib and I don't know what else yet."

"The burn notice --"

"Isn't going anywhere."

"Exactly."

"I mean, it'll still be there when you've healed up."

She turns from the window and gives him a steady look. "Sam." She doesn't say anything else, doesn't look away; neither does he, and after a minute he sighs.

"Tell me you have a plan."

"Not yet, but I will."


End file.
